


Covert Operation

by frenchposie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Covert Operation, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Father-Daughter Relationship, Greg thinks Mycroft is cheating, Greg's Daughter - Freeform, Lies, M/M, Mycroft doing legwork, Protective Family, Undercover, dubious daughter is dubious, new scotland yard, pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-26 11:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchposie/pseuds/frenchposie
Summary: Mycroft had to go undercover in order to figure out who in his office is leaking information.  He knew that he could make the connection with the right man, but what he didn't count on was Greg's oldest daughter being home from Uni and catching him during the night of the sting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I have it in my head that Greg has 2 kids, but I do. Given that the actor is in his early-mid 50s, I put Greg at being in his late 40s, making his oldest girl (Emily) about university aged. 
> 
> Sorry if it gets a little confusing bouncing from one perspective to the next. I tried to make it clear who was doing what, but I am aware that it might be difficult to suss out.

Greg stared into his tumbler of scotch, thinking about all of the ways he had been pushing Mycroft away late.  They had quarreled over trivial things, Mycroft trying to help Greg think some things out at work.  But, despite him being such an intelligent man who ‘ _wrote the New Scotland Yard code for this, Gregory,’_ he totally misunderstood the social culture that was created by said code.  Therefore, he couldn’t understand why Gregory would not just abide by the codes and had to deal with the social aspects at all.  Then there was the comedy show, which he had dragged Mycroft to, knowing the man didn’t care for them.  At one point when Mycroft had laughed, he leaned over and pointed it out.  The man didn’t laugh again that night.

Greg remembered how it felt when his wife had started cheating.  The long nights working.  The smile on her face.  The jokes he didn’t get.  The statements that he was _trying_ , but that she had been trying to make it work.  He felt utterly wretched, unloved and unworthy.  And now… Mycroft was doing the same.

It all started out innocently enough… just a new guy at work that was proving to be helpful and beneficial to Mycroft.  Chet.  Chet Needlebaum.  He was apparently Mycroft’s equal, but in a different department, and so they worked together frequently.  Mycroft, who nearly never spoke about work, except to gripe about a meeting or talk about Anthea (mild gossip only), or talk about travel that he would need to do, started talking about Chet.  Things Chet would say, or point out.

At first, Greg hadn’t minded.  Mycroft was a brilliant man that had far too few equals in this world.  Greg had his own friends, and he enjoyed telling Mycroft about conversations that he wouldn’t quite understand about sports he didn’t care about.  He would reiterate jokes that were hysterical at the time, but for which you really had to be there to understand it.  Mycroft had taken it all in stride, smiling and laughing because Greg was happy.  Now it was Greg’s turn to do the same. 

He had long since gotten used to Mycroft working late nights.  In some cases, he even let Anthea go home before him.  But, never before had he been working late nights _with_ someone.  The first time he had told Greg that he was working let with Chet on some project, Greg did his best to quell the rising panic in his heart.  His wife had done that – late ‘platonic’ meetings.  But, Mycroft wasn’t his wife.  Hell, he wasn’t even his husband.  But, their legal status aside, he knew Mycroft would never do that sort of thing.  Mycroft was loyal, and loved Greg, and he had made sure that Greg knew that over the years.

He sighed and took another long drink.  He wished that he didn’t have to deal with the feelings of incompatibility and insecurity that were so ingrained in him by his ex-wife.

His mobile dinged, and he  squinted as he noticed that it was from his oldest daughter, Emily.  She was back from uni for a few weeks and the two of them had plans to see each other over the weekend. 

**Daddy, if Michael was flirting with another girl, would I have a right to be angry about it? – Em**

Greg felt the protective papa bear instinct flair up and was about ready to show up to wherever she was and give the young man a good stern talking to.  But, he knew he couldn’t just rush in and protect her.  The fact that she was reaching out at all was rather huge, and he reveled in the trust that the two of them shared.  Obviously, he had done something write at some point of his life.

**If it makes you uncomfortable, you tell him to stop.  If he does not, and you need a place to stay, you can come here. - Dad**

Emily looked at the text, her eyes narrowing with the anger that she felt that her loving and protective father had such bad luck with the people that he loved.  She brushed a bit of her long blond hair behind her ear and pretended like she was taking a selfie.  But, the camera wasn’t pointed at her.  Instead, it was pointed at her father’s husband – Mycroft Holmes.  What the illustrious man was doing at a busy pub on a Friday night, she would never know.  But, what she did know was that he should have been wearing his wedding ring and should not have been slightly tipsy and flirting with a man not her father. 

_Snap: Picture of the hand that the wedding ring should have been on._

_Snap: Picture of young blonde with his hand on Mycroft’s wrist._

_Snap: Picture of Mycroft laughing and looking at blonde man with amusement._

She wouldn’t send these to her dad.  Rather, she was intending on taking him up on his offer. 

**I’m a little too tipsy to drive.  Don’t feel comfortable taking a cab alone.  Can you come get me? I’m at Portmans. – Em**

Greg blinked at the text.  As far as he knew, Emily didn’t tend to drink a lot.  Perhaps that was why she needed assistance.  Unfortunately, he was too drunk to drive; he called a cab and scoffed at the hour and ten minutes wait time they gave him.  He hated to lean on Mycroft when he knew the man was busy working, but this was his daughter. 

**Can you send me a car? My daughter needs help, and I’m not safe to drive. - Gregory**

His phone vibrated and Mycroft frowned as he looked at it.  Anthea knew better than to text him tonight.  Sherlock had no reason to contact him, and their parents didn’t text.  He knew that Gregory would only text him if it was an emergency.  Judging from the text it must have been, but he wasn’t in a place to do anything about it.  He pocketed his cell phone again.

Chet smirked at him.  “Everything all right? I thought you told your assistant that you were going home,” he said.

“Ah but the world never stops.  She’s a top notch assistant, and she knows what’s important to me.”  Mycroft said, hoping that Gregory wouldn’t be too upset with his choice of priority.

“Anything for which we need to adjourn?” Chet asked, his smooth voice cutting through the brash arrogance of the sports bar that he had chosen for them to meet.   He figured that getting Mycroft away from those damn CCTV cameras would be ideal for a meeting such as this.  He wasn’t foolish enough to think that Mycroft didn’t have a detail following him.  But, a man in a three hundred dollar suit would stand out like a sore thumb in a place like this, and the background chatter would provide wonderful white noise for any discussions. 

“Of course not, “Mycroft answered confidently.  “I’ll just need to handle that first thing in the morning.

Chet made a non-committal noise, and took another drink of the swill they called bourbon.  Scanning the room, he noticed a blonde young lady paying just a little too much attention to the two of them.  He stared back at her until she looked away.   “Is she one of yours?” he asked Mycroft, pointing over at her.

Mycroft’s lips parted in a subconscious inhale.  Emily.  Gregory’s oldest daughter was here.  “Yes,” he said, hoping that naming Emily as one of his protective detail would put her under his protection.   Worse, though, if she was the daughter that reached out to Gregory for assistance, that would eventually bring Gregory here.  Unless he and Chet could somehow go without being noticed, this could end disastrously.  He thought about his wedding ring, in a box in the safe in his office.   But, he couldn’t explain that to his husband, who had been cheated on before would absolutely see the signs that he had lined up.  Even so, he turned back to Chet with an alluring smile.  “She’s new.  I’ll make sure she gets extra training regarding blending in.”  He took another long drink of his brandy and hoped that the anxiety that seemed to shimmy down his extremities was unfounded.

Meanwhile Greg was pacing through the living room.  It was not like Mycroft to ignore him, but it was like his ex-wife.  It was fine.  He knew the signs now, and he would be gone by the end of the month.  But, for now, he needed to help his daughter.

**Anthea, I apologize for the late interruption. Can you please send a car to our home? Mycroft is indisposed and my daughter needs my assistance. – DI Lestrade**

The response only took a few moments.

**Certainly.  Alan will be by within the next fifteen minutes. – A**

Finally.  He breathed a sigh of relief and went to get dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.  The car came around just as he was putting his coat on.  He grabbed a packet of tissues and a bottle of water, in case Emily was upset.  He hoped that Michael wasn’t there before if he was, he would have a tough time not punching the young man in the face.  He might be a sucker for people who played him for the fool, but he would be damned if he watched his daughter travel the same path that he had. 

“So, what’s going on? Is your dad’s husband still flirting with someone else?” Emily’s boyfriend, Michael, said coming up to the table with the food that the two of them had ordered.  They had been ready to go back to his place for the night when Emily spotted a man that she only referred to as her dad’s husband.  He had known that her parents divorced and that her dad was remarried.  But, he only just realized that Emily had never actually said a name. 

“Yea.  I told dad to pick me up,” she admitted, not stating how she had roped Michael into the text exchange. 

Chet and Mycroft had started talking again, although both had stolen looks at Emily and Michael.  Chet didn’t quite believe that this girl was part of Mycroft’s protection detail, and was trying to figure out where he had seen her before.

Mycroft was nearly desperate for the two of them to leave.  To go anywhere.  This was getting far too close for his liking and he felt physically ill.  His phone buzzed again.  Looking at it, it his time it really was Anthea, with the single word, **Abort**.

“Looks like we’ve been found out,” Michael said, tilting his head at the two older men.  He noticed that the two of them had started looking at he and Emily, and their glances were making him feel uncomfortable.  He was impressed that Emily didn’t seem affected at all.  He supposed that’s what came of being a cop’s daughter.

Emily sucked in a breath before doing something that she knew would have repercussions.  “Stand behind me,” she demanded in a tone that broached no room for argument.  She pulled up her phone and took another fake selfie when Michael did as she demanded.

“What are you crazy?” he asked, as the flash went off. 

She swore, having not realized that the auto-flash had been activated at some point.  This was not going to end well, she could tell by the more than just a little annoyed look on Mycroft’s face, and the outright scathing look on the face of the man he was with. 

“That cannot be one of yours,” Chet demanded with more than just a little hysteria in his voice.  “Who is she Mycroft?”

“Just a girl who will be without a job come morning,” he stated, focusing on keeping his breathing.  He was not going to break cover at this stage of the game.  Months had gone into getting Chet to trust him, and despite what it might cost him, personally, getting the man to admit that he was the mole in the office was worth more to the free world.

“Em, we have to get going,” Michael stated, feeling rather like prey in the sight of predators.  “You can explain to me what you’re getting at in the car.  But, we can’t stay here.”

“Em…” Chet breathed as the information lit up in his mind.  “That’s Gregory Lestrade’s daughter,” he stated to Mycroft, his deep brown eyes becoming dangerously focused. 

“Of course, how could I forget?  She’s grown so much since she went off to university,” Mycroft said, trying to stay in character.  He had seen her when he walked in and hoped that she would know enough to stay out of his business.  Maybe she would call her father for … _Oh God_ … he realized all of the sudden.  She _had_ called her father.  It’s why Gregory contacted him for a ride.  How he wished that he were telepathic.  Chet Needlebaum was a dangerous man, and if he felt threatened by Emily, Mycroft could only imagine what he would try to do to her.  Try being the operative word.  Mycroft would not sit back and let Emily get pulled into the darker hell of his world.  He did his damnedest to protect Gregory from it, and his husband knew the seedy underground of humanity.  His daughter…  no.  It might blow nine months of combined field work, but she would not get dragged into this.  No matter how much she seemed to want to place herself there.

Mycroft could tell that Chet wasn’t buying into his excuse.  Complicated emotions played over the man’s face, and Mycroft knew that he had precious little time to fix this problem.  “You can’t blame me for wanting to protect her,” he said non-chalantly.

“I can if you set her up to take pictures of us,” Chet said, his eyes never leaving the young lady.

“What reason would I ever have for doing that?  Realistically.  If Gregory finds out about us, my marriage is over.  Discretion is just as much in my best interest as yours.”

They both watched as Emily checked her cell phone and then walked in the direction of the restroom.  Michael followed a few seconds later, abandoning their food and drink. 

Mycroft took that to mean that they were leaving.  While he would normally be relieved, it also likely meant that Gregory was here.  He knew he had to make decisions as to the necessary outcomes.  Despite Anthea’s warning, they had come too far for him to give up on Needlebaum now.  The man was reporting to someone, and Mycroft knew that if someone’s allegiance could be bought once, it could be bought again.   He also knew that the personal cost was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“I’ll be right back,” Chet said, leaving the table to head towards the rest rooms. 

As soon as the other man’s back was turned, Mycroft started texting his team.  This was about to go spectacularly wrong, and they needed to know not to start shooting without a direct target, if it came down to that. 

Emily and Michael paused in the area for the restroom.  They were each going to shimmy out a window and meet her father, which was scheduled to arrive in about five minutes time.  But, the men’s room didn’t have a window and the ladies room had a line.  In the end, they felt it best that Emily get out the window, even though no one would let her cut through the line. 

 “Hi Emily,” Chet said, coming to stand beside her in the line. 

“I don’t know you.  Go away,” she said, clearly stating to the world around them that this man was not welcomed.

“I work with your father.  Don’t you remember me?” he asked, putting a hand on her arm. 

“No you don’t,” she said, clearly.  “Go away.”

The line moved up a person, and a few people started murmuring to and about Chet that he should just leave her alone.

Michael took the moment to suggest to someone that they livestream the interaction and tag New Scotland Yard.  At the same time, he sent a text to Emily’s father for him to watch it.

Greg’s eyebrows knit together as he opened up New Scotland Yard’s facebook page and realized that this was really happening.  Chet, the man on which his husband had such an intellectual crush, was talking with _his_ Emily. 

Greg felt his protectiveness kick up to the level of rage.  He was ready to beat the hell of this usurper.  If he was going to take his husband away… Greg would get past that.  He knew that he wasn’t an equal to Mycroft Holmes. If Mycroft wanted a partner that was on his level intellectually and professionally that was on his level, Greg couldn’t begrudge him that.   But, if that man thought that he could then talk to _his_ daughter, despite her protestations… Greg wasn’t going to abide by that.

He felt the car slowing down and turning into what he assumed was the parking lot.  An not a moment too soon.  Greg’s eyes widened in horror as he watched Chet grab Emily’s arm and twist it behind her back as she was pushed into the wall across the hallway.  Greg didn’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before flinging the door open and making his way into the crowded bar.

Emily let out a soft _oof_ when she hit the wall, and was aware that several people in the hallway were trying to get this man off of her.  His breath was hot in her ear, and she found it horribly annoying.  “If you want to protect your father, you’ll give me your phone and forget we were ever here.”

Bracing her foot against the wall, she pushed back as hard as she could, pushing both of them off balance.  Turning herself around she took a swing and got one good connection while yelling, “My dad does not need my protection!”  It was a concept that he had ingrained in her and her sister’s heads growing up. 

Chet immediately went for her throat.  He was vaguely aware of someone grabbing onto his arm, but didn’t really comprehend what was going on until he found himself thrown against the wall at the other side of the hallway.  “Police!” he called out.  “Stay down!”

Michael stepped back and watched as Emily deftly maneuvered herself until she was beyond her father.  “I’ll get Mycroft,” she said, not waiting for her father’s response.  Mycroft had a lot of explaining to do.

“Mr. Holmes,” she stated, coming out to the table at which Mycroft and Chet had been sitting.

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed at her.  Not only was it unusual for her to refer to him in such a proper manner, but it was obvious that she had been roughed up.  “Are you all right?”  he asked.  He had seen Gregory rush through, and didn’t want to get in his way.  He had been calling back his operatives, and directed Anthea to make the necessary arrangements for the meetings that would need to take place to understand where the operation had fallen apart.  He sighed and knew that he would be taking the heat for how the “bust” had dissolved around him.  All that thought, he also knew that he wanted to see if Emily would have an interest in joining MI6 upon her graduation from university. 

“Emily.  Are you all right?” Exhaustion was evident in his voice, and he didn’t have the where-with-all to figure out what side of his personality she expected. 

“Yea.  Luckily my father insisted we had self-defense courses growing up.”  She was obviously angry, her voice holding the same low threat that her fathers did. 

There was a scream of sirens as other members of New Scotland Yard started making their way into the pub, and people started to make their way out, not wanting to be mixed up in anything relating to a NSY bust.   

“Come, let’s wait in my car.  I’m certain that you have questions, and I am going to need to provide answers to both you and your father.”

She gave him an incredulous look and went back in the direction of her father.   There were a few members of his team who recognized her and let her through.  She told her boyfriend that she was going home with her father, and then nodded at her dad, who she figured would understand that she was going home with Mycroft. 

Chet Needlebaum had been collared and was being taken out.  “I have to go to the station to answer some questions,” he explained to his daughter. 

“I want to go with you.  You wouldn’t have been here unless I had texted you to come.  And I want…”

“Shhh…” Greg soothed.  “You did great, sweetheart.  I’m not in trouble, and neither are you.”  He pulled her closer and gave her a kiss on her forehead.  Someone who wanted to go after him – or Mycroft – threatening his kids… it was his worst fear, and the entire concept made him feel ill. 

She gave him a strong hug.  “I’m going to go home with Mycroft.  Come home soon,” she said, starting to walk towards the main room.

“Oy!” Greg called to her.  “Leave off on the interrogation until I get there, yea?”

She glared at him minutely, but gave him a nod.  She could be on her best behavior for him.  But, only for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nothing goes as planned, Mycroft, Gregory, and Emily have a conversation about what had happened, and why.

The ride back to Mycroft’s house was tense.  The scrutiny of Emily Lestrade was not to be sneezed at.  She was every bit as formidable as her father – _moreso_ if Mycroft was being honest with himself.  He sighed and turned slightly to face her.  He wanted to go on the offensive, but he could only wonder what both Emily and her father were thinking of him at the moment.

He sighed and sent a few texts to Anthea, as well as his superiors.  It was just pure dumb luck that his husband’s daughter was at the same pub at the same time that night.  She was a variable that he had never considered.  Luckily, if he couldn’t consider her, there was no way that his superiors would have considered it either. 

Clearing his throat, he decided to start the conversation.  “What do you think was going on back there?”  he asked, quietly.  He supposed that maybe he should have checked to make certain that she was all right.  But, to his mind they had been through that.  And, really, if she was as angry as her body posture was suggesting, she didn’t want any sort of comfort from him.

She looked up at him, pulling her phone out.  She brought up the pictures that she had taken.  Showing him the pictures, she swiped through them.  “I think that you’re cheating on my father.  I think that I’ve seen that happen before, and I think that since you’re not my mother I have absolutely zero reason to have a loyalty to you.  I think that I saw what my father went through destroyed him on a level that I _thought_ you understood.   And, I think that I just got involved in some sort of covert operation. “  She took a deep breath and blew it out in a steady stream.  “Dad told me not to interrogate you without him there.”

“Are you going to school for criminal justice?” Mycroft asked.

“Yea.  Is it obvious?” she asked.  She was still angry at Mycroft, but she now had the understanding that there was something that she was missing. 

Mycroft nodded.  “You just blew open an MI6 operation that we’ve been working on for nearly a year,” he responded evenly.

She winced.  “I apologize, Mycroft.”

“What were your intentions?” he asked, ignoring her apology.

“I had texted my father to pick me up.  I figured that he would see you and either confront you – or not.  And I would have the pictures and we could discuss his options.  Because I’m not going to stand by and let him under-value himself for another relationship.  Not even for you.”

Mycroft’s lips set in a thin line.  “That would have hurt your father very badly,” he said after a few minutes. 

“Yes.  But, trust me…  he knows the signs of a cheater.  And, you were leaving them.”

Mycroft nodded.  “A few yes.  But, I was not cheating.  You thought too little of me, and too little of your father.”

She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly.  She nodded, her blond hair sweeping against her shoulders.  “I really do apologize, Mycroft,” she said, licking at her bottom lip. 

He drew in a deep breath and held it.  For most of his life, he had chosen to eschew personal attachments.   He had never had wanted children of his own, and he didn’t consider himself to be very good with them.  He wanted to make her feel better, but he didn’t want to lie to her.  Her meddling had made things much worse for everyone involved.  But, he understood that to her perspective, she was only protecting her father.

“I understand.  You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, but no matter.  We have our suspect in custody and we’ll find other ways to draw the information that we need out of him.”  His voice was cold, as he depicted the ice man personae that he was so well known for.

“So… you…,” Emily started, but looked down, the little divot between her eyebrows pulsing as she tried to find the words that suddenly would not come.

Staring across the dark car, Mycroft did the thing that he swore he would only do to Gregory in the most dire of situations: he deduced her.  “Yes, young Miss Lestrade, I love your father very much.  He is the most caring man that I have ever met, and I am lucky that his eye has fallen to me.  Many others would consider themselves blessed to be in my place, and I would never do anything to devalue that.  Your father is not a calculated risk.”

“Oh he is, Mr. Holmes.  A man of your status had to calculated him as a risk before becoming involved.  What speaks volumes is that you pursued the relationship anyway,” she stated much more confidently than she felt.  She was well aware that if this man was not her father’s husband, she would never dare to speak to him at all, let alone in such a tone.

She was dazzlingly smart for her age and upbringing.  For someone who was not identified, nor raised, as a genius, she certainly had a rather succinct perception of herself and the world around her.   Mycroft nodded after she spoke, and replied, “Yes, but since I made that calculation, it would not do to risk it all now.”

The car pulled up to his home, and he escorted Emily inside.  Once he had her settled in the living room, he went to the kitchen to make tea and make the call that would ensure that Chet was moved to an MI6 holding facility and out of the protection of New Scotland Yard.  If nothing else, the paperwork and information that was sent to Gregory’s bosses would ensure the man was home earlier. 

About an hour later, Gregory stormed in the door.  “Mycroft!  What the hell?” he demanded, coming into the living room where his husband and his daughter sat in uncomfortable silence, sipping tea and listening to some crap telly.

“Gregory, dear please.  I would advise against using such language in front of your daughter.”

Both sets of Lestrade eyebrows went up at the comment.  While the elder Lestrade did not speak like a sailor in front of his children, the younger of the two was certainly not an innocent.

“Daddy,” Emily said standing up and giving him a hug.  “Come on, sit yourself down, and get some tea.  I have held off on the interrogation as you asked, but I do believe that we’re both due some answers.”  Truth be known she had already gotten her answers in the car.  But, she didn’t want to leave the two men alone.  Rather, she wanted to be certain that her father wouldn’t need to stay on her couch for a bit.  She would not just leave him like this.

“Emily, go upstairs into the spare bedroom.  I have some pajamas that I was going to give you for Christmas.  Go put those on, and you’ll stay here tonight.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek and went up the stairs. 

“Mycroft, a word,” he said, coming up to his husband and sitting down where Emily had been.  “What the hell was tonight all about?”

“What do you think it was about, Gregory?” Mycroft asked, in an echo of what he had asked Emily earlier.

“I think that you were going to leave me for the bastard that your people just came and removed from our holding cells.  Now that he’s been arrested though, maybe you’re reconsidering it.  You can make the paper trail go away if you want to.  I’m half certain you will.”  His voice trailed off at the end.   This was all awful… not only was he going to lose his husband, but his daughter would be here to see the whole thing.

Mycroft’s face scrunched in a pinched look as he regarded his husband.  His gaze went to the missing ring on his finger, and he pressed his lips together.  It had been an important part of the rouse that he not wear it.  But now it seemed incredibly callous. 

“Do you know who else used to take off her wedding band when she was out on dates, Mycroft?”

“Your wife,” the younger man whispered, realizing that to all the world it really did look like he was actively trying to cheat on Lestrade.  As much as he had tried to assure Emily that he would not take a risk with his relationship with Gregory, he realized now that he had a very short amount of time before Gregory stopped listening and the world burned to the ground.

“Yea, damn straight my wife.  Ex-wife.  And now I’m going to have an ex-husband to complete the set,” he stated.  “At least you I understand.  Chet is so much more your equal in every way – politically, professionally, financially… all of it.  He is your equal, unlike me.  What is it that you called John at Sherrinford?  A little bit of ordinariness?”

“You are _not_ just a little bit of ordinariness,” Mycroft reported.  He had felt his blood run cold when Gregory stated that he would have an ex-husband.   He fought down the voice in the back of his head stating that it was all going to fall apart sooner or later.  Finally, Gregory had seen a bit of what he did for his employment and he was going to break their relationship off because of it.  “You are much more my equal, Gregory.  What happened tonight was legwork… field work.  Chet was our mark,” he admitted quietly.  “When we found out he fancied me, we made the decision to put me into the field to try to extract information from him.  But now that he’s being transferred to our holding cells, we’ll let the professionals deal with him.

Gregory huffed a sigh of frustration.  He had been so certain that he was being replaced that he hardly knew what to do with the fact that he was not being replaced.

“Gregory, I so deeply apologize.  I knew that you were feeling replaced, but I had to make Chet think that he and I were moving in that direction.  Initially we had another operative who was supposed to do this particular piece of legwork.  But, when we discovered he fancied men, me in particular, we had to go for it. 

“Oh,” Gregory mumbled.  “I’m sorry, Mycroft.  I didn’t mean to doubt you,” he mumbled, still feeling confused about the whole thing. 

“I gave you every reason to do just that,” Mycroft responded.  “I’m just pleased that you decided to stay.” He looked up at Emily as she re-entered the room with a pair of pajamas on. 

“Em, what on earth were you doing there? At the bar?  Mycroft, certainly you did not enlist her?” Gregory asked, still trying to sort together the events of the night. 

“No.  Not yet.  But, when she graduates, I have a job waiting for her at MI6,” he said, pouring himself another cup of tea.

“Yea, Michael and I were just going out for a pint and some food, and I happened to notice Mycroft with that other guy.”

“Yea, Michael… wasn’t he flirting with someone else?” Gregory asked, referring to the initial text that she sent him.

“Uh, no,” she replied sheepishly.  She smiled a bit at Mycroft who hid his own smile behind his teacup.  “I saw Mycroft flirting, but I know some people don’t mind that sort of thing. So, I was asking you what you thought because I didn’t want to interfere if what was happening was approved.

“She took some interesting pictures of us, too.  Chet noticed her as watching us, but I was able to say she was one of my operative body guards.  But, when she pretended to take a selfie and the flash went off, that’s when her cover was blown.”

Gregory looked between his husband and his daughter.  “Em, that was really nice of you to try to be protective of me.  But, sweetheart, you could have gotten really hurt.”  He thought for a moment and then asked, “Is that why you wanted me to pick you up? You wanted…”

“I wanted you to see Mycroft.  And I didn’t want you to be alone after.  We could talk about options.  Michael and I have the pull out couch, if you needed somewhere to stay quickly.  I didn’t want you staying at the Yard like last time…”  She licked at her bottom lip and looked down.

“That’s a lot of listing what you want and don’t want, and not much about what your father wants,” Mycroft pointed out. 

“Well… what do you want, dad?” Emily asked, tucking her feet under her on the couch. 

Lestrade thought about that.  He knew all about going undercover, having to do so himself.  But, he at least had warned his wife it was happening.  He at least was able to give some sort of heads up.  As it was, he felt like a fool.  And he felt tired.  And, his feelings of expendability had not completely lifted from earlier in the morning.

“First, I want you to promise me that you will tell me if you start to feel sore from where Chet manhandled you.”

“What?” Mycroft asked, surprised. “What did he do?”

“He attacked me just outside the ladies room.  Michael had the good sense to start live streaming it and tagging New Scotland Yard,” Emily explained.  She ignored Mycroft as he pulled out his mobile and started watching and texting.  “Initially it was just him talking to me, pretending to have worked with dad when I was a kid stuff like that.  When he pinned me against the wall and told me that I’d do what he said if I wanted to protect my dad, that’s when I knew he was full of it.  Dad always raised us to understand that if someone told us to do something to protect him that we were to fight our way out and tell him right away.”

A dark look fell across Mycroft’s face as Emily told her story.  Certainly, she was not his child, but she was the child of his husband.  And, even if she wasn’t a child anymore, she still came under his protection.  “I’ll make sure he pays for that Emily.  I’m so sorry that he hurt you – or tried to.”

“It’s not your fault, Mycroft,” she stated.

“It is.  I should have known something was wrong.  He seemed so focused on you after he figured out, _remembered_ that you were Gregory’s child.”

“How did he know that?  Did you tell him about me?”

“Of course not!” Mycroft scoffed.  Then he realized that without him as the point of contact, Chet shouldn’t have known anything about Emily.  “Fascinating,” he mumbled, sending out another text.  “Thank you for mentioning that, Emily.”  He smiled easily at her, doing so purely for her benefit.  His iced over heart warmed just a bit when she smiled back at him.

“What else do you want dad?” Emily asked. 

He smiled warmly, putting his arm around her.  “I want one of my daughters to be safe with me tonight.”

“Well that’s easy. Done,” she said with a smile.

“And I want my husband to think more of our relationship than collateral damage,” he said, looking at Mycroft.

“I wish I could have told you, Gregory.  Really, I did.  But, I needed you to act like you were being put out; it was more believable for the cover.”

“Yea,” Gregory said, sadly.  “Well, I’m going to head up to bed.”  He gave Emily a quick hug and Mycroft a sad look before leaving the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gregory and Mycroft talk, and it makes things better - sort of.
> 
> I know several people have asked about a next part - this is it folks. Fair warning, I am notoriously bad at fluff. My fiance and I are not fluffy people - too much talk, touch, or attetnion bothers both of us. So writing it is difficult at the best of times.

Mycroft waited until both other parties went to sleep, and then cleaned up the tea set.  He knew that he had to make certain that Gregory knew how much he was loved.  But, sentiment was not his strong suit. Sighing he made his way up the stairs, wondering if Gregory’s ex-wife had ever felt the same level of guilt and sadness that he was now.  He wondered if she ever feared losing Gregory’s companionship, and why.  And, he wondered if his actions were really going to cause Gregory to have a matched set of exes. 

Getting dressed for bed, he slipped under the covers, as he realized that Gregory was not asleep, although he was pretending to be.  He squinted as he noticed the red blotches and tear trails that made their way down the face of the love of his life. 

Mycroft lay a gentle hand on Gregory’s shoulder.  “I know you’re awake,” he muttered.  “After a crying jag like that, you’d be snoring up a storm.”

Gregory’s eyes pulled open.  “Couldn’t fool you, hm?” he asked, turning over and sitting up a bit. 

“I’m sorry that you want to.  Usually we can talk this stuff out,” Mycroft answered softly. 

“I’m not sure what there is left to say,” Gregory explained.  “You explained what had happened, and now I’m dealing with the left over feelings that I started the night with.”  He pushed himself up so that he was sitting with his back to the headboard.

Mycroft bit his bottom lip, but said nothing.

“I felt replaceable, and why not?  Chet was everything I’m not.  He was your friend, your equal.”

Mycroft studied his husband, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.  “ _You_ are my closest friend, Gregory.  And, while we may have different statuses, you’ve always been my equal.”

“No.  You literally keep the free world in order.  I can barely keep my department straight.  You are paid more than some small countries.  My salary barely pays my own expenses after the support cheques go to my girls – not that I would stop them.  But, you are so well educated, and I’m a bit of rough who barely got my college diploma. “  His voice was husky with emotion, and he looked over the husband whom he always knew was too good for him.

“Gregory, I well paid for what I do…” It bothered him that his money bothered his husband.  It was the one thing that he couldn’t do anything about.

“No, hon.  I don’t care that you get paid for your job.  You earn it.  I just… I felt so h-horrible.  I thought that I was going to have to move out,” Gregory interrupted.

Guilt flooded Mycroft’s system.  “Love, I would never hold you here against your will, but I don’t want you to leave.  You know I don’t like legwork, and this sort – the kind where I can’t even tell you what’s going on – is the worst kind.”  He gave Gregory’s hand a squeeze.  “But, I promise you this… I will never replace you, and if my feelings for you do change, I’ll talk to you about them.  Not just leave you to figure it out for yourself.”  Mycroft had always felt that there was a circle of hell waiting for Gregory’s ex-wife.  The stupid bint had no idea what she had, and he was devastated to be counted among her as someone who had so deeply hurt the kind, considerate man at his side.

“Thank you,” Gregory said, clearing his throat.  “I’m sorry that my daughter busted your sting operation.”

Mycroft huffed a laugh.  “I was actually rather impressed.  She wasn’t fool-proof, but she was no push over either.  I saw the replay of the live feed.  She was not going to take his shit, and that was pretty impressive too.  I want to offer her a job when she graduates uni.”

“What kind of job?” Gregory asked with a small smile.  His heart swelled with pride as Mycroft spoke.  Getting the man’s approval was difficult at best, and he never really expected Mycroft to have sort of relationship with his kids besides casual indifference. 

“I don’t know.  We’ll see what she’s interested in.  But, you’re a good dad, Gregory.  You did really well with her, and she deserves a career that respects her talents.”

Gregory was struck silent.  This was far more admiration than casual indifference, and he didn’t quite know what to say to it.  “Talk to her about it.  I think that it would be wonderful.”  Things felt better, normal.  He leaned over to kiss Mycroft, and was happy when the kiss was returned.

The two of them settled side by side, both on their backs, not quite cuddling. 

“Gregory, you have to know that I would never just leave you.” Mycroft’s voice cut through the darkness.  “You are right, you are not meticulously upper class.  And, that’s something I love about you.  I love that you are who you are and you’re not with me to get yourself or your family further in life.  I’m not a conquest for you, or something to use and leave.  Almost everyone else at _my_ level views me that way.”

“You have friends,” Gregory replied, trying to be cognizant of his husband’s anxiety about being unloved and unwanted in the world.

“Yes, I have friends.  Some of them I don’t even have to pay to do so.  But, of those that I don’t pay… the whole six of you?  You are the most important to me.  You are the man that I never thought would come into my life, let alone want to stay.  And I will never just abandon you, abandon this… for someone with whom I have other things in common.” 

Mycroft didn’t often like to bare his soul.  He didn’t like being vulnerable.  But, the walls that he had built around him made the person whom he loved most in his life – behind Sherlock and the Queen, of course – feel inadequate.  It was a mistake and he knew that he had a short time in which to fix this.  It was only a matter of time before Gregory left.  His blood seemed to run cold in his veins at the very thought.

He felt Gregory snuggle up to him.  “I understand,” Gregory said, stronger this time.  “I’m glad I’m important to you, and I know that you can’t talk to me about work.  I’m sorry, love.  You’re just going to have to cope with having an insecure husband sometimes.  Can you deal with that?  It’s not a relationships ender, is it?”  He knew that Mycroft came with his own list of  anxieties and insecurities, including a list of medical diagnosis that needed to be properly monitored otherwise it would turn his brilliant brain against himself.  When they had been a new couple, they discussed relationship enders – things that they would not abide by, and could end the relationship upon happening – cheating and abuse were both on the list. 

Mycroft looked at Gregory incredulously.  How could this man ask him if he was going to end the relationship because the man had a normal reaction to having been cheated on?  Mycroft’s insecurities were directed at himself and how he fit in the world around him.  Everything from his weight to being accepted by his family to knowing that if he signed the wrong paper he could start an inter-continental war.  “Have you met me?” he asked.  Gregory had been so wonderful about accepting his anxieties, insecurities, and obsessions.  He didn’t just know that Mycroft suffered from them, but he would do things to help him – from making sure he took his pills at the same time every day, to finding food that Mycroft would eat on especially stressful days, to talking him down when his mind shut the world out.  When they were alone in their locked bedroom, Gregory even made him feel _attractive_.  It was the only time in his life that this happened.

“It’s not an answer, Mycroft,” Greg stated, his voice wavering.  “I can hide it better.  But, I can’t promise that I won’t just be gone one day.”

“No!” Mycroft nearly shouted.  “Don’t… don’t… “  His anxiety played havoc with the concept of doing something wrong for so long that he came home one day and Gregory and all his things were gone.  He would wind up waiting for that day forever… knowing that it was coming.  He grasped at his pajama top and pulled it away from his chest, which felt extremely tight all of the sudden.  Pulling in a ragged breath, he couldn’t focus on anything except his breathing as his blood rushed in his ears.  

Mycroft felt the bed shift and heard a muttered swear as the light flicked on.  He squinted away from it and tried to find Gregory, who was suddenly too far away.  He couldn’t reach him.  Was this all a dream? Had he already pushed Gregory as far as he could and now he was leaving?

The bed divoted and Gregory’s face appeared in front of him.  “Mycroft look at me. “  He gently grasped the younger man’s shoulders and tried to catch his eye.  “Look at me.  It’s all right.  I’ll be honest with you.  When it hurts and I can’t cope with it anymore, when something needs to change, I’ll be honest with you.  I won’t just leave.  I’ll never just not be here,” he vowed. 

Mycroft had pried his eyes open at Gregory’s request.  He sucked in deep breaths that felt like they didn’t quite reach his lungs as Gregory spoke.  “It is not a deal breaker that you talk to me.  But, if you just leave, I’ll never forgive you,” he rasped out, his thoughts coming to a screeching collision inside of his head.

Slowly, the two of them relaxed back in bed, this time cuddled up with each other.  “I apologize for scaring you,” Gregory said, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek. 

“And I’m sorry for making you feel replaced,” Mycroft stated.  A tendril of a thought wormed its way inside his mind.  “Gregory?” he asked, tentatively.

“Hm?” the other man asked, already calming down from the night’s excitement. 

“What have I done to make you think you’re replaceable?”  He needed to ask.  He knew that he was not a tactile man by nature, and that coddling was only done when Gregory was desperately ill.  Cuddling itself was difficult for him on any day that he couldn’t properly compartmentalize.  He was aloof, distant, and often snippy.  God, he was a monster.

“You didn’t do anything, Mycroft,” Gregory responded.  “My ex-wife did many things to drive down my confidence and I’m sorry to say that there are some lasting effects.  But, you … you haven’t made me feel replaceable.  I expected to be replaced because I have been before, not because you have given me reason to believe it would happen.  It’s an insecurity, Myc, it’s not logical.”  He snuggled closer to his husband and draped an arm over Mycroft’s midsection.

The answer didn’t completely silence the anxiety snake that Gregory’s earlier comment had caused to slither through his mind.  But, for now, they were all right.  And as long as they were all right, he knew he could cage the beast and keep his anxieties at bay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay this really is the last chapter. It hit me on the way into work, and I thought it was sweet. I hope you like it.

The next morning Mycroft woke up to the smell of food.  Greg was still asleep on his side of the bed, so Mycroft tied on his dressing gown and descended the stairs.  He wasn’t terribly concerned, he knew that it had to be Emily who was cooking.  But, to beat the two of them awake, she had to wake up very early.

“Hey,” she said, with a smile as she poured what looked like batter on the … underside… of a pan.

“What are you doing?” he asked, watching as she held the pan over the flame of the stove.  He had never seen this done before and he wasn’t certain that she wasn’t going to ruin his pan.

“Making crepes.  Dad says you’re not really one for breakfast, but I figure if I make it light maybe you’ll have the stomach for it.”

“Crepes?” he asked, watching as the batter stiffened. 

“Yea, I learned how to make them at uni.  You can even roll them up with jam and things and they make a decent lunch.  Helps to beat against the freshman fifteen,” she rambled conversationally.

“Is that still a thing?” he asked, recalling the concept of the ‘freshman fifteen’ from when he was at university.

“Sure is.”  She knew that the two of them were not close before she left, so he wouldn’t notice her weight gain.  She also knew that her father was too kind to say anything about it.  It didn’t mean that she didn’t want to work on it.

“You look fine,” Mycroft said, reading her thoughts.

“Excuse me?” she asked, nearly tipping the crepe off of the pan.

“I’m sorry.  I try not to deduce when I’m interacting with your father or his family.  But, I could tell that you were thinking about your own weight gain… and if you did gain weight, it’s not unflattering.”  He worried that he was precariously close to flirting with her, and the thought literally turned his stomach.

To his pleasure, she smiled at him.  “That was so kind, Mycroft.  Thank you.”

A few more crepes made their way to the plate.  “I wanted to talk to you alone, as well.”  The kettle clicked and she poured the water, pulling out his tea selection.  “I don’t know what you like, sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and chose his highly caffeinated morning blend.  “All right…” he said slowly.  Jutting his chin out slightly, he nodded.  “I’m listening.”

“I wanted to apologize to you for jumping to the wrong conclusion last night, and offer an explanation.”

He watched as his tea steeped and nodded, brown eyes flicking back up at her.  He gave her a curt nod, but said nothing.

“I do apologize Mycroft.  You see,” she turned off the stove and gave him her full attention, “when mum cheated on dad Ashley and I kind of figured it out.  We weren’t certain, but we also didn’t know what to do about it.  Even though dad was working a lot, we saw how hurt he was when he would come home and we’d be home alone.  We watched as mum became more distant and how much it hurt dad.  After the divorce, we always said that if we could go back and do it again we would catch mum and make her come clean.  I mean, we were young and we just didn’t know what to do.”  She screwed her face up and regarded Mycroft.

“So when you saw Chet and I you saw your ability to make up for what you did – or more specifically didn’t do – the first time.”

“Yea,” she whispered with a nod.

Mycroft was impressed by her integrity.  She really was her father’s daughter.  “I appreciate your apology, and accept it.  I also accept your reasoning.  I think it’s grand that your father has daughters who love him so much.  You know, he loves you very much.

“I know,” she said with a smile, looking towards the stairs when she heard her father coming down the stairs. 

“Hey dad,” she said, turning on the stove again.  “I’m making crepes.  Can you pull out appropriate fillings?” she asked, acting as though they hadn’t been discussing him.

Mycroft smiled as he watched the two Lestrades cooking in tandem.  They were lucky to have each other, and he was lucky to have a lead on a future MI6 agent – even if she didn’t quite know it yet.


End file.
